Always Enough (Meet Me in Montana #2) - Kelly Elliott Page 0,2

pain in my ass, though. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was constantly fighting an erection when I was around her or if she really did just get on my last nerve.

Both were probably true.

I sighed and got to work on the fence. “Brock going to be joining us today?” I asked, looking at the storm clouds that were moving over the valley.

“Ty, he just had a baby. Can we not let him spend time with Morgan and Lincoln?” my father asked, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

Brock had retired from the Professional Bull Riders last November after he’d won the PBR World Championship and was now enjoying life here on the ranch with Lincoln and their two-week-old daughter, Morgan Elizabeth. “I s’pose you’re right. I just know that this would go quicker with an extra pair of hands.”

Something caught my eye right then, and I stopped working. “What is that over there? Is that smoke?” I asked.

My father turned and gazed in the direction I was looking and laughed. “Yes. Kaylee mentioned she was doing some burning today. She cut down a tree.”

I grunted at the mention of her name, then turned to look at my father. “She cut down a tree? By herself?”

“Does that surprise you, son? The woman is spit and fire.”

I scoffed. “No. Nothing Kaylee does surprises me.”

We went back to working on the fence, but if he didn’t think I caught the slight smile on his face, he was wrong. I glanced up again to see the smoke. It was turning darker.

Kaylee. Damn woman.

I slowly shook my head. “Do you think she can handle that?” I asked, wiping my brow. It was hotter than normal for this time of year. March in Hamilton was usually in the thirties, but today it was fifty-eight degrees, and I was working up a sweat.

“Ty, did you really just ask that?” my father asked with a chuckle.

I rolled my eyes. If you looked up the words independent woman in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of Kaylee Holden. Not that I thought there was anything wrong with that. I admired her for making the move from Georgia to Montana and taking on the old farmhouse that Lincoln had originally bought from Brock. My brother’s first wife, Kaci, passed away while giving birth to their son, Blayze, and Brock decided to sell the house last year, since he hadn’t stepped back inside since Kaci died. Lincoln, being an interior designer with a love of old houses, bought it without even looking at it in person.

Brock built another house on the family ranch not long after Kaci died. It was a much bigger, grander house. So when Lincoln found out she was pregnant with Morgan, she ended up moving in with Brock and Blayze.

Once Kaylee decided to make Hamilton her permanent home, she moved into the old house and took over the remodeling of it. The girl had no idea what the difference was between a screwdriver and a hammer. I swore, every time I turned around she was changing or trying to build something.

“Dad, it was just last week that she nearly cut off her hand while trying to cut that sheet metal for the raised beds in her garden. Remember? Not that that made her change her mind. Lord knows what the woman is capable of with a chain saw.”

He rubbed his chin as he thought about it. “Maybe you should go see if she needs help.”

I swallowed hard, not wanting to risk the raging hard-on I’d suffer being in her presence. “Or Tanner could go.”

My baby brother Tanner was home for a few days. He was a world-champion team roper with his friend and team partner, Chance Miller. They had been ranked number two at the time of Tanner’s latest injury. Chance decided not to team up with anyone else and was giving his body a rest while Tanner was recovering from a broken ankle. He got hurt while jumping off his horse. It was a stupid injury, and one that shouldn’t have happened, but he landed wrong, and the damn thing snapped in two places like a dried-up twig. The only good thing that came out of it was our mama was damn happy to finally have all her boys home.

“Tanner can hardly walk on his ankle, and you want him to go help Kaylee cut down a tree?”

With a half shrug, I replied, “I rode a bull with a broken rib countless times. He